


it's only half past the point of no return

by Anfield_rose



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, and apparently enjoy causing myself pain over footballers, i live for this shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anfield_rose/pseuds/Anfield_rose
Summary: And every time Sergio had scraped all his courage together to say something, Fernando would change the subject or flick his hair or introduce his girlfriend or move away to Liverpool.





	it's only half past the point of no return

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the word prompt of the football monthly challenge
> 
> Title based on [Pink's song Glitter in the air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQ0zhsvhynw)

_ It’s funny _

_ how all those things I _

_ could have said _

_ flooded my head after we said goodbye. _

Shane L. Koyczan

* * *

 

 

Sometimes it felt as if they had grown up together -felt being the operative word. He had spent his youth in sunny Seville and Nando had grown up in Madrid. The first time they had met, Sergio had been 15. It was his first international match for Spain U17 and he was  _ terrified _ . And there, in the locker room, he had seen a boy who looked just as terrified as he felt. The blond hair and brown eyes instantly caught his eye. In a sea of dark hair and a variation of dark brown eyes, Fernando seemed to light up the room -and by doing so he took Sergio’s breath away. After the first training for the upcoming match they had become friends. It was then, Sergio thought now years later, that he had fallen for the boy from Madrid. Timing hadn’t always been on their side. Whenever Sergio was in Madrid for an away game, Fernando would be on the other side of the country. Whenever Fernando was in Seville, Sergio would be in Barcelona or Malaga, or Valencia, or wherever that was not Seville. When Sergio made the move to Real Madrid, he thought things would be easier if they lived in the same city. Their friendship blossomed, yes, but Sergio still remembered how his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw the blond striker. After a good run with the Spain national team that resulted in them losing the round of 8 and too much cheap alcohol in a bar where Sergio could barely understand the menu, he -drunkenly- confessed to Fernando how he felt. It was late and there was a chill in the air and they were huddled together for warmth in the window of the bar, waiting for a cab to take them back to the hotel when Sergio decided  _ now or never _ and told Fernando how beautiful he was with his brown doe eyes and his unruly blond mop that was supposed to be hair and how those lips would haunt him in his dreams -in the most beautiful and non-creepy way imaginable. Or, that is what Sergio would have said, had he been coherent and  _ not completely shitfaced _ . Instead, apparently, he had kept mumbling unintelligibly before passing out against Fernando’s shoulder. 

 

Ever since that night, Sergio felt more and more awkward around Fernando. The usually easy-flowing conversations late at night before either of them had settled down with someone had become one-sided half of the time. Sergio knew he should talk to Fer about how he felt. Jesus, he should come clean but he was scared half to death about how Fernando would react. And every time Sergio had scraped all his courage together to say something, Fernando would change the subject or flick his hair or introduce his girlfriend or move away to Liverpool. Once, when Real had drawn Manchester in the Champions League, Sergio had had half the heart to take the train to Liverpool after the match to surprise his friend and pour out his heart and to then run away -back to Spain, but he never did. Their friendship grew stronger when Fernando moved away. They had found an equal in one another on the pitch during EUROs and World Cups. Sergio always knew how to set up a goal for Fernando. Fernando always knew where to find Sergio’s body in a celebratory huddle. And every time he did, Sergio’s heart shattered a little more, knowing that this would be it; this would be -and  _ should be _ \- the extent of their friendship. This, them trusting each other blindly off the pitch, was all Sergio could ask for, what with Fernando and Olalla living together in England. 

 

When Fernando announced that he and Olalla were getting married, Sergio’s heart broke into smithereens. He was forced by team mates to go, but he really did not want to see the both of them be so happy. Knowing Fernando had found someone else to share life with, hurt more than Sergio could have ever imagined. In the months leading up to the wedding, there had been far too many close calls in which Sergio had gotten drunk but not nearly drunk enough to forget his pain and had almost phoned Fernando at three in the morning to confess how he felt about him. But every time Sergio would come to his senses after the third ring.  _ Why break apart two people who love each other? _ he often thought.  _ He’ll never leave her for me, never leave Liverpool for Madrid _ . 

 

It was years,  _ decades _ , later when the two of them -now both retired and both grandfathers- that Sergio was able to come clean.

“I wish I had told you all those years ago.”

“Wish you had told me what?” Fernando asked before taking a sip of wine.

“I was in love with you. Have been for years,” Sergio replied, afraid to look his friend in the eye. Fernando was quiet for a moment.

“When.. When did you realise?”

“First training for my first U17 match. They’d locked us in the storage closet, remember?” Sergio said with a hint of a smile. Fernando nodded, returning the smile.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Fernando said after a pause.

“Because I thought being gay was a sin. Because I figured it’d go away. Because you introduced me to Olalla and then told me you were marrying her. Because I was so scared you didn’t love me back -not like that at least,” Sergio said, his voice unsure. 

“Oh Sergio-”

“No, please don’t feel sorry for me. I got over it, got over  _ you _ . I married Pilar, we had children, now we have grandchildren and I- I am happy.” 

“-I wish you had told me. I would have, Serg. God knows I still do, deep down.”

“Still what?” Sergio was confused which could have been the alcohol’s fault.

“Love you.” 


End file.
